Homewrecker
by PhoenixCee
Summary: AU - Kurt Hummel has the perfect life. Engaged to his college sweetheart Adam and in the midst of planning for adoption, as far as he's concerned life could get no sweeter. That is until one day all of this changes when Kurt's neighbourhood is infiltrated by their new (and sexy) bachelor neighbour: Blaine Anderson.
1. Humble Neighbourhood

_A/N: Hey guys, this is my first fic since 2008, so it's been a while - try not to be too hard on me! Seeing as Blaine/Darren is a life ruiner, it made sense to me that Blaine could very easily be a homewrecker. Remember this is kind of AU, so I apologise if any characters are a little OOC. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy!_

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**Chapter 1: Humble Neighbourhood**

Brightgate. Each hedge trimmed to perfection; each blade of grass lush and green and no longer than three inches tall; each pastel house painted the most charming colour: sea-foam green, dirty flesh, butter, or (My personal favourite) dirty blue. The fences are white and sharp. The children are quiet and well behaved. This is Brightgate. This is my home. I knew it would be from the moment I saw that very pastel advert spread out in _Midwest Monthly. _Brightgate: The perfect town for the perfect couple.

Adam proposed last Christmas. Cliché, I know, but he's cute so I let it slide. And who could say no to _that _accent? Not me. It still sends shivers down my spine. We're expecting, too. Well, not expecting per say; we're looking into our options and we think we're going to go forward with adoption. It's a big step, but Adam thinks we're ready for it. Me? I love kids and I love Adam so it must be right, right?

But still, there are some niggling doubts about the whole married with 2.5 kids thing. Part of my brain is screaming: _Are you crazy? You want to tie yourself down? Really, Kurt? You want to be with one person forever? And with _a kid?_ When will you ever have time for fun again? What's wrong with you? Are you crazy?_ But then I take a deep, soothing breath and think: _Who am I kidding? Look at that hair. Listen to his voice. See the love in his eyes. Yes, this is right, surely. I'm just being silly. I have the ideal life._

"Kurt, dear?"

"Yes?"

"Come and eat, you've been staring out of that window for a while now."

"Can't a man look out of his own window?" I jest with a wink.

"I just want you to eat. You haven't been eating right recently, Kurt. It's worrying me," Adam's face contorts into a pout and I roll my eyes - just a tad.

"Sorry, sorry. I'll eat, see," I walk from the window to the kitchen island, my feet tip-tapping melodically on the hardwood floor, and take a seat opposite him. Picking up my fork I take a stab at the slightly singed bacon presented on the plate before me, "Mmm. Taste's good, honey."

"Don't lie to me Kurt, you know it's burnt."

"No, but I like it burnt. It makes it all crispy and gives it that little extra kick," I say between mouthfuls. I'm not lying; I do like it crispy. Maybe not _this_ crispy but I know he tried to get it right.

"Sure," he smiles. He thinks I'm lying but still appreciates my attempt. I watch him eat for a while, his tiny mouth deliberating over every chew, until I lose interest and face the window again. Then, out of nowhere, he whines "Oh, God."

"What? Did you get ketchup over your scarf again?"

"It's not the scarf, it's the rug."

"You got ketchup on the _rug_?"

"No, no. Just don't you think it looks a bit dirty?"

I take the opportunity for light flirtation, "I don't know about the rug but I know I'm feeling a little dirty."

He doesn't appreciate my attempt, "Kurt I'm very serious about that rug. It was expensive."

"I know it was," the rug is beige and old and I think we got it at a flea market.

"Should we get it dry cleaned?"

"Save the dry cleaning for clothes, dear," I say, but something has caught my eye. A moving van has pulled up outside and out steps a dashing man with dark, seemingly curly hair that has been cemented to his head with product. I can't help but wonder what that hair would look like without so much gel in it. He's smiling at his new home, adjacent to ours, his entire face lit up with delight. I guess he's a fan of pastel. He wears a deep green bowtie; Bowties are cool (Damnit, Adam makes me watch too many of those British sci-fi shows). I sit staring at this elusive new neighbour for a while, half listening to Adam who's still harping on about the dirty rug. It's just a rug, Adam. Jeez. Then he notices that I'm not paying attention to him.

"What are you looking at?"

"What? Nothing. I mean, we have new neighbour I guess. They must have sold the house."

"It was nice of Joanne to tell us."

"I know."

"Bitch." Adam turns to the window, too. We both get up from our seats and move hesitantly toward it as though committing some heinous crime, crouching and peering out as sneakily as is possible while your nose is squished against the glass. "He's cute. Don't get any ideas," Adam winks.

"Are you kidding? You know I love you," I smile and plant a light kiss on his cheek, "Besides, he's probably straight."

"What makes you say that?"

"I don't know, probability?"

"I guess. And you'd definitely jump him if he wasn't, I'm sure."

I decide not to confirm that for him, "Ha, you know my type well. I like 'em cute, like you."

"Nice try," Adam smirks, "Help me clean up?" He stands, stretches and walks back toward the kitchen.

"Sure thing," I say, with one last lingering glance out at the man lifting furniture from the van, the veins in his arms throbbing from the weight of a particularly large armchair. My mind begins to approach dangerous territory and I shake my head in attempt to clear it: _No, Adam needs you_. So I turn back to the kitchen and pick up my plate, still speckled with discarded strips of bacon, and take it to the sink.

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_A/N: I know my writing can be very dialogue heavy, I'm trying to remedy that. Anyway, I hope you liked Chapter 1 and are looking forward to Chapter 2 in which Kurt and Blaine meet for the first time! Please review and let me know if I've done anything to offend or delight you. Thanks!_


	2. Knock Knock!

_A/N: Hey guys! I plan on updating this fic at some time every Thursday (GMT) if possible. In this chapter we get to see Kurt and Blaine interact for the very first time. There's also coffee. Enjoy!_

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**Chapter 2: Knock Knock!**

Today's the day. What day I hear you ask? The day I get to meet the new neighbour. I say 'I' and not 'we' because Adam isn't coming. He's busy with something or other - Work, I think. He's the director of the glee club at Brightgate Community College. I would have waited for him to get the chance to join me, but I'm too excited to wait and so I leave my home and lock the door securely behind me.

I tread carefully across the new guy's pathway, taking special care not to step on his freshly mowed lawn, until I'm standing before a glossy cream front door identical to my own. It's time. _Take a deep breath, Kurt_. I reach my hand out, and ball it into a fist: _Knock knock._

After a few excruciating seconds of waiting, the door swings open. Standing in the doorframe is a startlingly attractive man in his twenties - my age if not slightly younger. He's more petite close up than he seemed from a distance - a few inches shorter than me. His hair is exactly the same as yesterday: dark and shiny, and I can already tell that he has an overt obsession with hair gel. He's wearing another bowtie - indigo, this time, scattered with little black polka dots. His face is cheerful and expectant.

"Hey neighbour," I chirp, "I'm Kurt Hummel; I live next door."

"Oh hey," he beams at me, a warm, genuine smile that makes me melt, "nice to meet you Kurt. I'm Blaine. Come on in; make yourself at home."

I step over the barrier of his front door and he closes it gently behind me. He moved in less than forty-eight hours ago and yet his house is already so well put together - so intricately furnished. I am astonished - the decor almost rivals that of mine and Adam's. "Nice place you've got here," I admire.

"Gee thanks," Blaine quips, "it's new."

"Aha, I see you're quite the jokester."

"You could say that," he smiles. We hold eye contact for a moment, until unwanted warmth begins to surface on my cheeks and ears as though turning a disgusting shade of red and I look away, pretending to examine a strange tribal statue he has standing on a podium. This guy is like a young Frasier Crane.

"So Kurt," Blaine says, breaking the silence and forcing me to face him again, "why don't we get to know one another?"

"Are you propositioning me?" I tease innocently.

"No," he says, eyeing me carefully, but I see a twinkle in his eyes. "I was thinking more like by _talking_, you know? For instance: describe yourself in one word."

Easy: "Fabulous," I say immediately, fighting hard against the temptation to whip out the jazz hands.

"I'd also have accepted 'modest'," he says and we both laugh.

"And you?" I ask.

He thinks about it, then offers, "Adorable," and bats his eyes at me. He's got that right.

"I see we're both very humble."

Blaine laughs and then leads me to his living room, offering me a seat on his - is this real? - leather couch. He excuses himself to the kitchen for a moment and I take the chance to scrutinize a stack of DVDs he has piled up next to the TV. There are a lot of musicals, from _West Side _Story to _RENT_ and everything in between including - what's this? _Moulin Rouge!_ I love _Moulin Rouge!_ I start freaking out for a split second, until Blaine returns from the kitchen and I resolve to tell him about my love for the best-movie-musical-ever.

"It's one of my favourite movies, too," he grins.

"Well then you have impeccable taste."

"I know," his toothy smile refuses to fade, even as he asks me whether I fancy some coffee.

"Sure," I spit out. Of course I want coffee. Who _wouldn't_ want coffee?

"Awesome," he exclaims, "Grab your coat."

I pause, confused, "You mean we're going out?"

"What? Oh, sorry I wasn't clear. I haven't got many groceries yet, so I was going to take us to a coffee shop. That's okay, right?" He looks like a lost puppy dog, eyes wide and pleading.

"Um, I guess, I mean," I stumble over my words. Would Adam mind? It's not a date; it's making friends with a neighbour_. Yeah. Sure. It's fine,_ I convince myself, "Yeah that's no problem," I beam.

"Cool, just let me grab my keys."

The drive is long - I realise halfway there that Blaine doesn't yet know the area well and is driving to a chain coffee shop in the nearest town. I decide next time to tell him about this cute joint back in Brightgate. We listen to music in the car. I've never heard it before as I think it's indie, and my musical knowledge extends predominantly to Broadway shows. The lyrics echo in my head: _When you are close to me I shiver_. They're scarily accurate; I am far too close to Blaine to be entirely comfortable right now. At stop lights his hands flex on the steering wheel. God - I hardly stop shivering.

We eventually reach the coffee shop and place our orders. I get a grande non-fat mocha and Blaine gets a medium drip. I wonder if that's his usual.

We grab a table near the back. Every chain restaurant looks the same to me; all sophisticated and brown and plastic looking. Don't get me wrong, the coffee's not bad at all, but I'm definitely telling him about the other place next time. If there is a next time. _I hope there's a next time._

"So what brings you to Brightgate?" I take a sip of my coffee; it is steaming and piquant and so damn beautiful. I look at Blaine over the rim of my cup.

"Oh you know, change of pace. I always wanted to act but I struggled to get jobs in New York."

I slam my coffee cup hard on the table, some of the liquid splashes out, narrowly missing my - very expensive - trousers. "Same here. I adore New York. I was so sad when I had to move."

"So why did you?"

"It's so competitive out there; like you, I couldn't find work. I had a stint off Broadway but it didn't pay the bills. I hope I can move back out there someday. But I do love Brightgate. I work at the local theatre. We're putting on a production of _Spring Awakening_ soon; you could try out if you wanted to. I can't guarantee you'll get a part or anything, I'm not a casting director I just design the costumes - how the mighty have fallen, right? But I'm sure you'd do great - I'm not trying out for a part so you won't have any tough competition," I tease.

He laughs quietly, "Thanks man," he says, "That's cool, I really appreciate it."

"Auditions are this Sunday at three. Maybe I'll see you there, I love watching try-outs," not entirely true, but I'm intrigued by Blaine and really would like to see him in action.

"Yeah, maybe," he says and takes a sip of coffee. I watch him drink, watch him inhale, watch his fingers trace the lines of the corrugated cup, his eyes closed in some secret ecstasy.

I glance at my watch, and am taken aback by the time. "It's late," I say.

"Time flies when you're having fun," Blaine flashes a small smile.

"I'd better get home;" I try to look apologetic, "Adam will be waiting."

"Adam?" Blaine asks, "Is he like your housemate or something?"

Woops. "My fiancé," I tell him. I blush, feeling weirdly ashamed.

"You never mentioned a fiancé."

"I didn't?"

"Nope. Believe me, I would have remembered."

"Well," I try, "It never came up."

An odd look overcomes Blaine's face. It is contemplative and distracted but there's something else there. Is it jealousy? No, don't be silly, Kurt, you only met the guy today and besides, you don't even know his sexuality. Though if all those musicals were anything to go by -

"I'd better get you home then," Blaine speaks and it knocks me out of my daze.

"Yeah I guess so," I confirm and take one last sip of my now cold coffee, before tossing it into a trashcan and following Blaine out of the coffee shop.

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_A/N: I hope you guys liked the chapter! I'm a bit worried that I'm not doing Kurt and Blaine's characters justice. Anyway, please remember to review as it's always nice to hear what people think - whether it's praise or constructive criticism! Chapter 3 will be up next week at around the same time. Thanks for reading!_


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